


Now, We Pray.

by stillnotking



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Depression, Implied Relationships, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 01:11:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3230579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillnotking/pseuds/stillnotking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank idly wondered how many bullets Gerard would put in him before he got bored and found himself another victim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now, We Pray.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while listening to Bullets. Try not to hate me.

It was another sleepless night.

Not that it mattered; he was so used to sleepless nights by then that it was surprising when he actually slept. He turned around to look at his bandmates, they were all asleep, granted. He stared back at the highway ahead of them.

There was music on the radio. He didn't recognize the band. Something new, something fresh, but it wasn't them. _They_ were better, he knew it.

_And that was_ Fall Out Boy _with their song_ Dead on Arrival _from their album_ Take This to Your Grave, _the Chicago band....._

Frank tuned out the rest of the radio host's speech. That band was named after a Simpsons' character, cute but they definitely had nothing on them. Their band's name and sound were unique, which was why he loved them so much. They were different.

He heard some shifting behind him and closed his eyes. Pretending to be asleep was the best option, he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. He didn't think anyone noticed he was awake, not even Otter who was on driver's duty that night.

"Matt..."

He heard the soft whisper clearly as if it was spoken in his own ear. The voice was what it's always been, high pitched, scratchy from the cigarettes and screaming, and often unstable from all the alcohol and pills. Going up an octave or dropping out completely, bailing out mid-sentence.

"Go back to sleep, you need it." Otter whispered back, careful to keep his voice as low as he could, he didn't want the others to wake up.

"I don't want to," the voice was heavy with sleep. Frank concentrated on the soft sound of the radio, on the hum of the engine, on anything but _him._

"Go back to sleep," Otter repeated, sounding tired and bored. He'd done that before, coaxing him into sleeping, into eating, into functioning. They all had.

"I can't," he argued."Because what I need is what I can't have,and what I have, I don't need. 

The owner of the voice started laughing, not loud enough to wake anyone up, but loud enough to cause Frank's guts to wrench and make bile rise up his throat. He was at it again, dropping hints, he did it more when he was drunk, but it never made things easier. 

"You're still drunk," Otter told him. "Sleep it off, for our sake if not yours." 

Frank heard him settle back into his seat, he imagined the way his eyes fluttered eyes closed. Seconds later, his breathing got even slowly, joining the rest.

"You can open your eyes now, Frank." Apparently Otter did notice Frank was still awake. 

* * * 

It was finally a motel day. Frank lived for those. He understood that tour life meant showers were scarce, but unlike Gerard, he wasn't able to go more than three days without showering and not feel like a walking dumpster.

He was leaning against the trailer, smoking a cigarette, when Mikey came to stand next to him. "You look like a corpse," Mikey told him. 

"That might be taken as a compliment if I was your weird brother." Frank answered. 

"My brother is not weird." 

Frank snorted. "You both are weird." 

Mikey shook his head. "What's wrong, Iero?" 

"Nothing is wrong." Frank deadpanned and stubbed his cigarette on the ground. Mikey stared at him, obviously unconvinced by Frank's denial. It seemed as if everyone was in denial about something. 

"Don't do this to me, Frank," Mikey sighed. "I already have one person to worry about." 

"Keep worrying about him then, I'm fine." Frank spread his arms to indicate his well-being. Mikey walked away then. Frank could feel that Mikey was upset but he didn't like it when people around him fussed over him, it made him feel vulnerable, they already had one vulnerable person in that band. 

He made his way up the steps that led to their rooms. He was sharing a room with Brian who wasn't in. Frank took the opportunity to shower. 

He was toweling off when he heard it, the yelling. It wasn't the usual yelling either, when only Gerard and Mikey's voices would be heard, exchanging profanity and declarations of hatred neither of them meant. That one was louder and angrier.

Frank threw on his jeans and walked to the window that over looked the parking lot. From his vantage point he could see them all standing in a circle around a single person. The man was standing still, arms crossed over his chest, looking intently at Brian who was the one yelling. He was all shadowand pallor and he stood as far away as he could from the sun, no wonder everyone thought he was a vampire.

He was swaying a little. Frank wondered why, he'd slept the drunkenness off. But then the sun caught the glass of a bottle on the floor, and Frank understood. He should have known. 

He shut the curtains the moment Gerard opened his mouth, possibly to slur out another useless defense. Say it was just that one time, that he was an adult, that he was fine even though he wasn't and Frank knew it all too well. 

It physically hurt to walk away from that window. It hurt to not run downstairs and stand in front of him, tell everyone to back the fuck off. Tell them that they didn't understand why he drank the way he did, that they didn't understand him at all. 

Truth was, neither did he. 

He lied on his bed, body heavy with tiredness, heart heavy with something that left a bitter taste in his mouth. Something that made him curl into a ball on his side, facing away from the window and breathe deeply, shaking the images of bright hazel eyes and soft lips out of his head. 

He reached for the chain around his neck, the cold silver was comforting. It was the only piece left to remind him that he didn't envision it all, that it really happened. 

He fell asleep with his hand still clutching the small silver cross. 

* * * 

He woke up to the harsh glare of fluorescent lights. The bulb overhead was burning itself away, refusing to fade. Instead, it burnt itself out, waiting for the day no more light shined from it. Then it would be replaced, and it would have burnt out for nothing.

Brian was sitting on the bed next to his, going through some papers, he looked up and saw Frank. "Glad you're up, sound check's in forty minutes." 

Frank sat up slowly, blinking rapidly at the lights and regaining his bearings. He was surprised he managed to fall asleep, maybe a mix of nostalgia and a comfortable bed were all he needed. 

"What was that fight about?" Frank asked groggily. "What fight?" Brian looked up from his papers again. 

"Earlier. You and Gerard." 

"Oh. That." Brian said. "He was drinking again." 

"He's always drinking," Frank pointed out, feeling the familiar pain in his chest whenever he thought of what the liquor was doing to Gerard. He hated watching him go down that spiral, but it wasn't as if he would ever let Frank close enough to pull him out without them both diving head first into an ocean of misery. 

"True," Brian agreed. "But this time he started drinking at eight in the fucking morning, I can't deal with that shit."

"No one asked you to." Frank snapped. Brian put his papers aside, pursing his lips."You should get dressed." was all he said to Frank before gathering his things and leaving the room. 

Frank hit his head against the wall. He shouldn't have snapped at Brian, he knew that. Brian was only looking after Gerard the way he was looking after the rest of them. But Frank couldn't help getting defensive when it came to Gerard.

He felt hollowed out, everything hurt and nothing seemed right. He looked over the motel's phone and thought about calling his mother but chose against it. He didn't want her to hear the pain in his voice.

He got up and put his shirt then his shoes on. He grabbed his duffel bag from under the bed and sat down. He couldn't bring himself to go out and face his band mates.

A knock sounded on the door. "Frank? Come on, time to go." It was Otter.

Frank picked up his bag and opened the door, greeting Otter with a feeble smile. 

 

 

The drive to the venue was silent. Frank had expected that. Everyone was probably too tired from the long drive and the fight earlier. Brian didn't usually yell at them, so when he did, it was a pretty big deal that kept everyone quiet. 

Gerard was huddled next to the window, his hair framing his face. Mikey was petting his head soothingly. Frank tried not to watch, it was their business. Frank had promised himself to keep a good enough distance between him and the Way brothers. Keep things professional. It was hard but he had to do it. 

He busied himself with looking out the window at the road. It was still hot out and it made his clothes stick to his skin with sweat. Frank hated driving around in the desert. It was the same dull scenery over and over again, sand and rocks and a glaring hot sun. It got pretty old, pretty fast. Frank missed the cold New Jersey air so much; he couldn't wait to get home.

It was getting harder and harder to be away from home. He missed his dogs and his parents and his life. He missed being a normal guy with normal worries that didn't include impossible love affairs or his friends ODing on painkillers. 

He knew it wasn't easy on the rest of them either; they all had families back home as well. And he knew Mikey had it the worst; his brother was with him but he was still galaxies away, and Mikey struggled to keep him grounded to Earth. Frank made a mental note to be nicer to Mikey. 

Gerard was sitting upright now, he and Mikey were whispering to each other. Frank couldn't pick up much of their conversation since most of it happened through complicated facial expressions he never could understand. It was their thing, talking through looks and glances, but he could hear the occasional whisper of "alcohol" and "health", he could figure out what the conversation was about. 

The van came to a stop and he peeled himself from the seat. The vinyl made a popping sound. Frank was dying to get inside the venue where there was air conditioning and cold water. He couldn't understand how Mikey always wore his stupid beanies or how Gerard put up with wearing hoodies in fucking 120 degree weather when Frank could barely handle his own skin. 

They dragged their gear inside and set up. All throughout soundcheck, Frank thought about iced water. It made soundcheck a little less tedious. 

Brian led them all backstage after that and Frank breathed in the cold air happily. It was a fancier venue than they were used to which meant better treatment and even separate dressing rooms, well semi separate. 

"Alright," Brian said. "Mikey, Gerard and Frank, you guys get a dressing room of your own. Ray, Matt and I will be in the other one." 

Frank glared at Brian. Was he serious? Putting Frank in close proximity to Gerard was bound to end in a disaster. 

Brian ignored Frank's glares and shooed them off. Frank sulked all the way to the dressing room, glaring at anything within two feet of him. Mikey kept a tight hold on Gerard's arm and marched him forward, away from Frank. If Frank could be grateful for anything, it would have been that. 

The dressing room was air conditioned and he almost dropped to his knees and thanked god but he didn't, mainly because he didn't believe in god. Also, being on his knees around Gerard brought back bad memories. He contented himself by lounging on the sofa as Mikey began to straighten his hair which was beginning to frizz up. 

"Your hair is damaged all to hell," Gerard commented. Mikey shot him a dirty look. "Since when do you know anything about hair care, grease ball?" 

Frank couldn't help snorting at that. He had missed their carefree banter. During their early days, when Gerard was semi-sober, he'd watch them play video games and bicker like an old married couple. They'd make him wish he wasn't an only child. Now, all Frank could see was two people desperately trying to hold a family together. 

They all sat in silence as Mikey fucked up his hair, not that Frank was one to talk, he changed his hair more than he changed his underwear. Even though he tried not to, he often found himself glancing in Gerard's direction. Gerard's hands were shaking a little, withdrawal already? Frank could see him sweating slightly. It was painful to watch, it almost made Frank want to get him a bottle. Almost. 

"Are you done?" Gerard whined. Mikey shook his head and Gerard heaved an exasperated sigh. "I need a drink." Mikey set his flat iron down, eyes closed. "Gerard..." he warned, his voice was tight. 

"Let's go get some Coke, I'm thirsty." Frank told Gerard. He wasn't sure what had possessed him to say that, he hadn't talked to Gerard about anything other than show related things in at least a week. Why did he just offer to get Coke with him? 

"I want Pepsi,"Gerard grumbled. 

"That's because your taste buds are broken," Frank countered. "Let's go, asshole. I don't have all day." He was trying to sound normal. If he talked to Gerard the same way he usually talked to everyone else then maybe they could be friends again. 

His words earned a small, crooked smile from Gerard. His heart swelled with something he couldn't identify. He smiled back. 

"Get me something when you get back!" Mikey called behind them.

* * * 

"Can I smoke in here?" Gerard asked as Frank pushed the buttons on the vending machine. It was the first thing he said since they'd left the dressing room. 

Frank pointed at the NO SMOKING sign on the wall across from them. Gerard shrugged and pulled out a cigarette anyway. "They said no smoking," Frank told him. Gerard chuckled. "Do I look like I care?" 

He didn't look like he cared at all. He still had his hood pulled up and his sunglasses were still perched on his nose. Gerard smoked like a chimney and against all his better judgment; Frank couldn't stop staring at him like the love-struck puppy he was . Gerard was beautiful. 

He wasn't beautiful in the usual sense of the word. His skin was sickly pale and his eyes were constantly surrounded by dark rings. But there was something about the color of his eyes, about the way he talked. Frank was infatuated. 

He knew it was useless, Gerard would never be emotionally available enough to give him what he wanted but Frank had always been a masochist. He would tear himself apart for one single look that told him Gerard felt _anything_.

"What did Mikey want?" Frank looked over at Gerard, who was still sucking at his cigarette. "Get him a Coke,you both have poor taste." Gerard said around his cigarette, Frank found the way he talked from the side of his mouth absolutely adorable. 

 

 

When they got back, Gerard kicked both Mikey and Frank out to change. It was uncalled for; they'd both seen him naked before. Frank tried not to dwell on that thought for long. 

Gerard was in his stage clothes when he let them back in and since Mikey had already dressed, Frank had to scramble to put his clothes on. 

Changing in front of others had never been a problem for Frank; he wasn't shy about his body. But changing in front of Gerard was proving to be difficult. Gerard was staring determinedly at the mirror, ringing his eyes with eyeliner, like he needed to add more shadows to his eyes. Frank changed quickly. He felt relief wash over him as he slid his shirt on. He knew he ought to get over the awkwardness, it wasn't helping anyone but he simply couldn't figure out a way to make it all less difficult. 

Gerard was dabbing red eye shadow all over his eyelids. It was his new thing. He had claimed it made his eyes pop when Mikey had asked what was it exactly he thought he was doing. Frank didn't think Gerard's eyes needed to _pop_ any more but he liked it. He liked everything Gerard did. 

"Hey, Frankie," Gerard called. Frank's head snapped up, Gerard hadn't used that nickname in forever. Frank was taken aback. 

"Yeah?" he croaked out. 

"Come here," Gerard's voice was quiet and soft, it sounded like liqued gold. 

Frank stood in front of the mirror, not sure what to do. Gerard asked him to close his eyes and he did. His heart was beating a little faster. 

He felt finger tips graze his face. Gerard's hands were soft. Artist's hands. He felt them move lightly over his lids, like the wings of a butterfly. He nearly melted at the touch. 

Gerard's fingers traced every inch of Frank's face and landed on his lip ring. Frank fought the urge to open his eyes, just to see the look on Gerard's face. To know if he remembered things as clearly as Frank did. But he kept his eyes tightly shut and tried to calm down his heart, which was on the verge of leaping right out of his chest.

He felt the tip of something that felt strangely like an eyeliner pencil on his eyelids, twice on each lid. It was odd, was Gerard _drawing_ on his face? 

"And done," Gerard announced. Frank slowly opened his eyes, taking in the sight before him. Gerard was anxiously biting his lip, looking a little nervous. "You can look in the mirror now," he murmured. 

In the mirror, Frank saw two Xs drawn over his eyes, from his eyebrows to his cheekbones. It made his eyes look huge and strangely bright. 

"I like it,"he confessed. He sensed Gerard relax beside him, he must have been worried about Frank's reaction. Frank couldn't see why Gerard was worried about it; Frank liked everything Gerard did to him. Even when Gerard had insisted that Frank would look good with a Mohawk, Frank hadn't been too keen on the idea but Gerard had been right, as always. 

"You do?" Gerard sounded uncertain, like he didn't really think Frank would appreciate what he'd done. Frank threw his arms around Gerard and hugged him tight. "I do." 

It felt so natural to be holding Gerard like that, they fit so perfectly against each other's bodies. Like puzzle pieces falling into place, Frank thought.

Mikey coughed and Frank snapped back to reality. He released his grip on Gerard and stepped away, his face felt like it was on fire. 

They were spared the awkwardness by Brian opening the door. "It's showtime," he said.

* * * 

The show had went well; Frank had been more relaxed than usual, even though he still kept a safe distance from Gerard. He felt better, rejuvenated. A few touches had brought him back to life. He didn't let himself think about what a kiss might do.

After the show, Brian surprised them by telling them they could spend a few hours in the motel. Apparently, they didn't have to be off until five in the morning. Frank was dying for another shower; these shows got him too sweaty for his liking. 

He was in the shower, scrubbing himself as hard as he could, as if it would slow down the grime that would cover his skin once they get on the road again, when he heard the door of the motel room open. 

He thought it was Brian, although he didn't expect him to come back so soon. He'd figured Brian would rather hang out with Ray and Otter, Frank hadn't been much company lately, always too lost in his own head to notice when people were talking to him. He turned off the water and took his time drying himself. He was in no hurry to face their manager's reproachful eyes. He knew he wasn't making things easier for anyone, himself included, but it wasn't as if he could just turn it off. He couldn't stop himself from feeling like that. 

He had nothing but a pair of sweatpants on because it was still as hot as the devil's asshole, not that Frank knew what the devil's asshole felt like, he just assumed it would be hot. 

Great, now he was thinking about fucking Satan, as if he didn't have enough reasons to go to hell. 

"Hey, Bri," he said. He was still holding a towel to his head, half of the towel was covering his face. He struggled to get it off. 

"Oh, I'm not Brian,"

Frank was sure he was imagining things. That was it, he was going insane. The voice belonged to someone who would never, not even in Frank's wildest dreams, be in his room. The voice belonged to the one person who plagued his nightmares in sleep and occupied his thoughts every waking second. 

Frank took a few deep breaths and pushed the towel off, letting it fall to the floor. 

Although it was extremely difficult to believe, Gerard was lying on Brian's bed. His arms were crossed behind his head.His eyes were half closed and he was looking directly at Frank. "We're roomies now," he said. 

Frank gaped at him. His mind had fallen at least ten steps behind and he was trying to catch up with that turn of events. It couldn't be real. _He_ couldn't be real. Frank tried his hardest not to blink, fearing that if he did blink, Gerard would disappear. 

"How...?" Frank trailed off, unsure how to ask. He sat on the edge of his bed, anticipating the answer. 

"I asked Brian to switch rooms with me.He wasn't happy, mind you, and neither was Mikey but eventually, I won." Gerard explained.

"Why did you want to change rooms?" Frank's voice was shaking hard. He sounded as if he was on the verge of tears. "Mikey was getting on my nerves,"Gerard rolled his eyes. "And before you ask, I didn't trade with Ray or Matt because they both snore."

"Oh," was all Frank was able to say. He was confused and a little angry. Was Gerard trying to hurt him? It was the only reason for Gerard to be doing this. He must have known how much damage his presence would cause Frank but as usual, he didn't stop to think of the consequences. Frank idly wondered how many bullets Gerard would put in him before he got bored and found himself another victim. 

Frank had never realized how appropriate the name of their first album had been until then. It seemed like the name was taunting him now. 

Gerard sat up on the bed to face Frank, smiling. His smile was breath-taking. 

"You can't stay here," Frank said. Gerard's smile faltered. "Why?" 

"Because," clarified Frank. "If you stay, one of us will get hurt." 

"It doesn't have to be like that," Gerard whispered. His eyes were down-cast. Frank could see them shining. He hoped they weren't shining with tears. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he had upset Gerard. 

"It always is," Frank answered. The gaping hole in his chest that he had sewn shut a while back started tearing. The stitches were coming loose and his heart was falling apart again. He tried to push those feelings back, to hide them away again in the little dark corner they resided in before. He knew it was a hopeless affair. 

"Maybe," Gerard began."We could make it work this time, maybe we'll both make it out alive." 

Desperation was dripping out of Gerard's words and onto the floor. The pain in his voice was palpable. Frank's resolve was dissolving. There was a battle inside of him. His common sense was telling him to leave the room and go sleep in the van, it was the safer option that would keep him intact. His treacherous heart, on the other hand, was telling him to throw common sense right out the window and crawl into bed with Gerard. To capture whatever happiness he could in the little time he had, even if it meant getting hurt later. 

He didn't have an answer for Gerard. He knew, deep down, that it was impossible to make it out alive.Their relationship would never survive the tidal wave of liquor and drugs. Frank would try to fight it as hard as he could, but would Gerard try to hold himself together? Was Gerard strong enough to fight it out with him? He already knew the answer. Gerard would be dead weight and Frank would never be able to keep them both on the surface. One of them had to sink. 

"Please, Frankie," Gerard was begging now. His hazel eyes bright with unshed tears. His lower lip was trembling. Frank found himself kneeling in front of Gerard before he even knew what was going on. 

"We can't,"Frank whispered, even though he was holding Gerard's face in his hands. He stroked the light stubble that has grown over Gerard's face. 

Frank was about to say something but he didn't have the time. He found Gerard's lips on his the moment he opened his mouth to speak. Gerard's lips were a little chapped but they fit perfectly with his lips. Frank let his eyes flutter closed and kissed back.

Gerard tasted like cigarettes and alcohol. He tasted like pain and regret. He tasted like passion and love and most importantly, he tasted like heaven. Frank lost himself in the kiss. He felt Gerard's tongue flicking over his lip ring. He wondered if Gerard had thought about how it felt to kiss him with his lip ring on when he had touched his lip earlier that day. Gerard's fingers tangled in Frank's hair, tugging lightly at the soft, dark locks. It made Frank breathless. He tried not to think about what it meant to be kissing Gerard so passionately. He tried to ignore the uncomfortable knot dread had left in his stomach. 

They kept kissing for a while until they were both blue with the lack of oxygen. They pulled apart. Gerard's pupils were blown, his lips were swollen and slick with spit. Frank was sure he looked exactly the same. 

"God, I missed that," he panted. 

"I did too," Gerard sounded as breathless as Frank felt. 

Gerard's fingers hooked around the silver chain around Frank's neck. He turned the cross in his hand. "I can't believe you're still wearing that," he said. 

"Why?" 

"Because," Gerard said. "after everything I've done to you, I figured you hate me. So why would you wear something I gave you?" 

"I don't hate you," Frank was appalled at the thought. How could Gerard think he hated him when all he did was think of him every second of every day? 

"You have an odd way of showing it," Gerard mumbled. He was right, of course. Frank was hurt at first, then angry, then both. Eventually, he just withdrew himself from everyone and stopped talking to Gerard altogether. God, he was such an idiot. 

"This won't end well," Frank said, pointing his finger between their chests.

Gerard nodded. "I know." 

"So, what know?" Frank asked, heart hammering against his rib cage. 

"Now," Gerard said, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "we pray." and he pulled Frank in for another kiss.

* * *


End file.
